


A Story of Two Houses

by Reyanth



Category: Japanese Actor RPF, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, musical - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mild S&M, Mind Control, Multi, Partial Mind Control, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23840860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyanth/pseuds/Reyanth
Summary: If the pacifistic Romeo has always seemed dispassionate, those close to him know it is because he was once under the thrall of the Capulet vampire, Tybalt. Thus denied his heart's true desire, Benvolio has settled for a relationship with Mercutio, but the wild child of the Montague household is inexplicably drawn to the danger of the enemy he claims to hate.Meanwhile, biding his time, Tybalt has been waiting for the opportunity to reclaim his Montague prize while toying with the humans in an underground war that, to him, is merely play. Soon, on the eve of her birthday, Juliet will be turned, joining the ranks of the ancient Capulet rulers of Verona. To the Montagues, who represent the humans of the nation, this is a perversion of innocence that cannot be allowed. The wheel of fate begins to turn, and Romeo is brought into Tybalt's sphere once again.(A vampire AU of Romeo and Juliet.)
Relationships: Mercutio/Benvolio Montague, Mercutio/Tybalt (Romeo and Juliet), Romeo Montague/Benvolio Montague, Romeo Montague/Tybalt, Tybalt/Benvolio Montague
Comments: 13
Kudos: 13





	1. Part 1: Sun and Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Talk about niche... This vampire AU of Romeo and Juliet is based on the 2019 Romeo and Juliet Toho musical. The casting is not consequential to the story, except that the inspiration came specifically from the following casting.
> 
> Romeo: Furukawa Yuuta  
> Tybalt: Watanabe Daisuke  
> Benvolio: Miura Ryosuke
> 
> The vampire concept was inspired by Watanabe Daisuke's sexy, vampiric Tybalt, but you're free to imagine what you wish. (Yeah, I'm not really pretending there's more than one human out there who knows what the hell I'm talking about and chooses to ride this ship with me.)
> 
> Essentially, it's just RomiJuli with slash pairings and vampires for Capulets.

There was nothing like the raw thrill of running cold steel across trembling flesh, rigid with fear. Man or woman, aunt or uncle, vampire or human, Tybalt cared little for the details. The thrill, however, he cherished.

He rarely let blood. That which smeared his blade at present was the doing of his current lover. Mercutio, a ward of House Montague, was a wild card, a real freak in the sack. This was the third time he'd come at Tybalt looking for a fight and then dropped his weapons along with his pants, instead. He lived for the thrill, too, but he seemed to find that best after Tybalt's knife broke the skin.

At first, Tybalt had been bewildered. He'd stoically pressed the blade up against a pale throat—willingly bared to him—intending to show his enemy that this was no game. Mercutio had been suitably afraid, his eyes widening and breath catching...but there had also been a sheen to his gaze that apparently indicated arousal brought on by the fear, and he had taken Tybalt's wrist in his own fingers and pulled it downwards, pressing so that the knife bit a ravine into his skin.

Mercutio was unstable. That much was clear. However, Tybalt could work with that.

Roughly grabbing Mercutio by the back of the neck, he'd mashed his lips to the other man's and shoved his tongue down a welcoming throat. His other hand, he brought up to worry the thin wound descending from Mercutio's Adam's apple, and when he broke the kiss, he licked the blood of another House from his fingers. Then...he fed.

Only shallowly. Only enough to make his veins sing.

Mercutio was human. If Tybalt went too far, the whole of human Verona would be on the Capulets with the fire and fury only humanity could bring to bear.

There was a fragile balance between the Montagues, who held as much power in Verona as any human dynasty might amass over the generations, and the vampiric Capulets, who ruled the city from the shadows. Balance, however, did not equal peace.

Soon, it would be time for the newest initiate to the Capulet family to take her place among the immortal rulers. It would be for Tybalt to turn her and to protect her throughout eternity as he had done through her human years. Adopted by the heads of the family, she had grown almost to adulthood in his companionship and he was fond of her in a way he cared for no other.

Juliet was sweet and gentle, but without fear. Tybalt burned to test the limits of her courage, but she was the one existence with whom he stayed his hand.

With lust-maddened Mercutio, on the other hand, Tybalt had no such reservations. Thirst for blood sated, he spun the human man and slammed him up against the stone wall of the alley they had fought their way down. He took Mercutio roughly, without mercy, and sated himself with little consideration of the human's needs.

Spent, he stumbled back a step, fixed his clothes, and began to depart.

"Blood-sucking scum," Mercutio rasped after him.

"Cocksucking gutter rat," Tybalt purred back at the mortal.

"Why?" Mercutio shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "Why won't you fight me seriously?"

"The price of taking a human life is a century of incarceration. A short-lived creature like yourself could never understand the torture of such lengthy solitude. You're not worth it. None of you are."

"Then why fight back at all?" Mercutio pressed, leaning back against the wall, his chest scraped bloody.

"And let you pathetic Montague act as if you own this city? Never."

"I'll kill you. If you don't fight for your life, one day I will kill you."

"You'll try, human...and then, you'll die."

*

Running his fingers gingerly over the bandage dressing the sliced flesh of Benvolio's arm, Romeo let slip a sound of discontent. He couldn't help it. He hated these territorial scuffles that plagued his House. There was no point to them.

He hadn't even known Benvolio was out there, risking his life. He'd come to engage his friend in a game and instead found Benvolio flat on his back with exhaustion, blood seeping through the dressing that bound his upper arm.

He'd tossed the board onto the bed, pieces rattling within, and fetched fresh cloth. He was too accustomed to handling this sort of injury, nowadays.

"Why do you let him drag you into these things?" Romeo sighed, having already given away his frustration.

Sitting, now, on the edge of his bed, Benvolio grunted. His gaze remained averted. "If I'm not there to look out for him, he'll bite off more than he can chew."

"Yeah? And who's looking out for you?" Romeo growled at the wounded man beside him. A moment later, he regretted the outburst. They both knew that was supposed to be him. "Where was Mercutio when you got hurt?" he pressed, afraid of the answer.

Benvolio elected to remain silent, but his hand came up to rest over Romeo's, still covering the hurt shoulder. There was a lot of communication in the silent touch; love, warmth, regret...but not blame, even if there should be.

Romeo slid his hand free, trying not to cause any hurt. Benvolio may not blame him, but he blamed himself, and it gnawed at him now. He stood, taking a step or two before shaking his head in response to the guilt-ridden voice in his head.

"I can't do it, Benvolio," he said, forlorn. Turning, he tried to explain himself, knowing he was his own greatest critic. "Fighting the Capulets is folly. They're too strong, too swift, too-"

"Monstrous. That's what they are, Romeo. Monsters." Benvolio grit his teeth against the pain in his arm and reached out to grasp Romeo's hand. The Capulets were a sore subject, but once breached, it was difficult to retract the argument. "They feed on the people of this city like livestock, and one day, the next accidental casualty will be someone we love. How can we not fight to protect those we love?"

Him. Benvolio was speaking of Romeo. Benvolio fought at Mercutio's back, yes, but his own back was placed squarely in front of Romeo, for whom he feared.

They had been children when Romeo was almost kidnapped by the Capulet lieutenant. Tybalt had been properly frightening to a young Benvolio, but Romeo had bravely engaged the dark, dangerous vampire in conversation. Tybalt had certainly noticed. He had taken Romeo's small face in hand and studied its delicate features, seeing ahead to the surpassingly handsome man Romeo had now become.

The ensuing invitation had seemed innocent to Romeo at the time, but for several nights, he had been plagued by fervent, heated dreams that insisted he seek out the vampire who held him in thrall. Terrified and desperate, Benvolio had stopped Romeo with a kiss. So pure and honest was that one, earnest kiss, that Tybalt's spell had been broken, and Romeo's mind and heart released.

For years, Benvolio had maintained a wariness by Romeo's side and kept his dearest friend from coming into contact with any of the fearsome Capulets. Only in recent years, as he grew ever more deeply embroiled in the age-old Montague vendetta against the Capulets, had Benvolio forgotten that boyhood fear. Spurred on by Mercutio, he began to give in to the bloodlust and find excitement in the thrill of pitting his skill against that of the otherworldly Capulets.

Romeo, though, for all his skill with a blade, had never felt the pull of the battlefield. He was more inclined to the softer, sweeter arts.

He did not stand by Benvolio's side during the tide of battle, but when the waves receded, he was there to give comfort. That was the best he could offer.

It wasn't much. Benvolio had Mercutio, after all. Romeo's affections were merely those of tender care and gentle touch, and perhaps the occasional entwining of lips and tongues when Benvolio was swept up in the fantasy of another life where they might be lovers.

Romeo had taken lovers of his own, of course, but what only Benvolio knew was that Romeo's heart had never woken from the slumber it fell into after he was freed of Tybalt's thrall. He did not feel love, even when he recognized it. Thus, Benvolio refused to engage in an empty love with him, no matter how much his own heart ached for Romeo.

Yet Benvolio had been loyal and true throughout all of Romeo's life. Looking at him now, wounded and tired, Romeo felt anew the coldness of his own refusal to fight alongside his friends and family. Benvolio had earned that much loyalty from him, even if the Capulets had not directly earned his enmity.

"Romeo, I won't ask you to sacrifice your nature for me," Benvolio said quietly, rising to a stand, as if he had learned to read minds. "But I will fight. I have to."

"For me."

"And for Mercutio...and all of humankind," Benvolio insisted, wavering on his feet.

''There has to be another way," Romeo groaned, catching his friend and holding him steady. "I don't want to lose either of you."

''We don't want to lose you, either," Benvolio responded, so serious and imploring that Romeo could not argue his point further. For a moment, Benvolio rested his forehead against Romeo's chest, but then he let out a heavy sigh. "Listen," he said, seeking Romeo's gaze. "Mercutio has something planned. He wants you to come. You know how he is. But I don't want y-"

"He's dragging you into danger again," Romeo growled, sensing the fervor of anxiety barely contained under his friend's words.

"It's... The vampires are siring a new addition to the Capulet House," Benvolio explained rapidly, as if that justified the dangerous undertaking that had yet to be revealed. "They're turning a human just like you and I into one of them! She's just a girl! Barely a woman! I can't just sit back and-"

"Tell Mercutio I'll join you."

Benvolio recoiled in shock, tripping back onto his rump on the bed as balance failed him. "Romeo!"

"If you're willing to risk your life for this, then why shouldn't I?" Romeo questioned, closing in so that he towered over his shocked companion.

"Romeo, no..." Benvolio stared at his lifelong friend, thinking fast, but words failed him. "If Tybalt got his hands on you..." Clutching at Romeo's lapels, he pulled himself back to his feet, searching for the words. "I'd die," he whispered, his breath puffing against Romeo's lips, bent so near to his own. "That's the one thing... I just can't..."

"He won't recognize me. He won't even remember me." Uncomfortable with the inappropriate desire welling up in him, Romeo straightened and took a step back, though he kept a loose hold on his unsteady friend.

"Recognize you?" Benvolio barked. "Hah! He doesn't have to. Have you seen yourself? He'll fall for you all over again. He'll-"

"Fall for me? That's ridiculous. He just-"

"He'll want you for his own, just like he did back then."

"Benvolio, don't be absurd. You're reading too much-"

"I love you. I love you, Romeo, and I know he'll see in you exactly what I do. Again. I can't lose you. Not like that." He shook Romeo's hands free of his frame, causing the taller man to back further away so he wouldn't hurt himself. "Forget what I told you. Forget Mercuti-"

"I'm not going for Mercutio," Romeo said calmly, though inwardly he was still trying to process the words that had never been spoken between them before. "I'm going because you're right. We can't just sit back and let the Capulets do whatever they want. If we let them sire new vampires whenever they decide the time is right..." Romeo trailed off. That was one reason, but not the one that mattered most. He took Benvolio's face in his hands before sliding his arms around sturdy, reliable shoulders and hips, and burying his nose under a curly fall of hair. "I'll hide my face," he promised, "but for once...I want to have your back, just as you've always had mine...and if Tybalt finds me, if for some reason he sets his sights on me, so be it. If it wasn't for you, I would have been his creature long ago. My whole life has been borrowed time. If I don't protect you when you need me, what kind of man will I be?"

He'd always known how Benvolio felt, but he hadn't known the depth of those feelings. He'd let himself believe that the relationship Benvolio shared with Mercutio had taken precedence. He'd let himself believe he was off the hook.

He wasn't. He never would be.

"Why?" Benvolio whispered, moved by the embrace but wary of false hope. "Why now? What's different?"

"I don't know," Romeo answered honestly, burying his face in Benvolio's neck. "I just...don't like to see you hurt. Whatever this plan of Mercutio's, the Capulets will be at their most dangerous before the new vampire is sired. I wouldn't forgive myself if I let you go without me and you got hurt, or worse... If you must go, then I'll be there with you."

Pushing Romeo back to a visible distance one-handed, Benvolio studied the man he loved with tears in his eyes. "I wish..." His voice sputtered and died. "If I thought you could learn to love me, I'd never put myself in the path of danger again," he said, hoarsely. "So be it. We'll both go."

Studying his oldest, closest confidant, Romeo knew the matter was settled. It was a bitter-sweet victory. Regardless of his sense of obligation, Romeo did not relish the path to which he had committed himself. He was afraid.

It was Benvolio's fear that pricked him. Seeing it there in his friend's eyes made it clear that the coming fight would be a struggle for their lives.

If they could die... If Benvolio might die...

"Before that..."

There was one thing Romeo had always wanted, for himself, but more so for the friend who loved him. He was sure some of the strain in Benvolio could be lifted if they just...

"No."

Romeo steeled his gaze. "I don't want there to be any regrets," he asserted, bringing his hand once more to a soft, round cheek. "Just this once, Benvolio... Put your heart aside."

"My heart rules my body. You know that," Benvolio responded, taking Romeo's fingers and holding them away from his face.

"Your heart isn't the problem."

"No. That would be yours."

The response was bitterly cold and brutally truthful, forcing Romeo back a pace, his touch withdrawn. He could not deny the allegation. However, he didn't need his heart, and he suspected Benvolio could make do without it, as well.

"As you say," he agreed, amicably, "but my body has a will of its own," he pointed out. Spreading his arms, he indicated that the choice lay with Benvolio.

Benvolio was an attractive man, and from a practical standpoint, Romeo appreciated both his form and his personality. It was difficult for him to understand what others meant when they spoke of love, or even infatuation. However, lust was a sensation with which he was well acquainted. More than once, he'd felt the urge to explore that sensation with this trusted friend, but he'd come to understand that his advances were somehow painful to Benvolio, and thus resisted the selfish desire for a physical relationship between the two of them.

Now, he laid his wants bare, knowing there may never come a more appropriate chance. Thus, he stood, arms splayed and waiting, but Benvolio did not move or speak.

"Fine," Romeo huffed, arms dropping to his sides. "If Mercutio is enough for you, even though he's out whoring around with half of Verona..." Even before he followed through on the angry thought, Romeo felt ill. He was not typically prone to such displays of weakness, let alone jealousy. "Forgive me," he murmured, ashamed. "That was cruel."

"Tybalt," croaked Benvolio.

"Pardon?"

"Not half of Verona. Just Tybalt Capulet."

"That's impossible," Romeo murmured, Sure he was misunderstanding. "Mercutio loathes him, even more than you do."

"I don't loathe him. I fear him."

"And Mercutio doesn't?"

"Of course he does."

Romeo swung his arms with frustration. He hated riddles. "I don't understand."

"Good," snapped Benvolio, reticence written all over him. He glared stubbornly until Romeo gave in, walking slowly backwards, then turning and making haste for the door. He had only wanted to comfort his friend. He didn't deserve...

"Romeo!" Breaking, Benvolio rushed toward him, wrapping him up in trembling arms.

Of course he deserved it. He had let Benvolio come to harm by entrusting his well-being to the wild Mercutio—who was fraternizing with the enemy.

"I hate this..." Benvolio gasped. "I hate..."

Revolving within the lasso of Benvolio's arms, Romeo hesitantly provided the one answer he had always been afraid of. "Me?"

Raising his hands to caress Romeo's cheeks and jaw, Benvolio fought to make sound past the lump in his throat. "Never," he rasped, pulling Romeo's face down to his and initiating a deep kiss unlike any he had allowed between them before.

*

As though afraid he would change his mind given the opportunity, Benvolio hurriedly set about divesting them both of their clothes, backing toward his bed without letting any space come between their entwined bodies. The intensity that radiated from Romeo took him by surprise. Benvolio had always known that the offer was open to him should he choose to accept it. He just hadn't imagined that Romeo might truly want this.

It baffled Benvolio that one whose heart was closed to love could still burn with such passion. Yet Romeo seemed to want him more than he had ever dreamed. It wasn't entirely a good feeling, knowing that this was almost purely physical for the other man. Yet the emotion that existed between friends had to count for something. Even if it hurt Benvolio to feel unworthy, the enthusiasm and tenderness with which Romeo now explored his body was flattering.

Yet even as he revelled in the caress of rose-bud lips on his flushed skin, he fought a tightness in his chest. He was a man grown, and he had little to lose but his mind, but that was threat enough.

More than anything, he was afraid of being unable to let go when all was said and done. When he knew the taste of Romeo's skin and the swell of his desire, what hope had he of keeping his head? What recourse when love flared to obsession?

If not for Mercutio, he would surely have given in to this long ago. However, Romeo's words had struck true. Mercutio was not enough for him, and not because of his unusual proclivities or his yen for the vampire lieutenant. He simply wasn't Romeo, and never had that been so clear as when Romeo's tongue returned to Benvolio's after mapping out his curves, planes, and scars.

Romeo kissed with a heat Benvolio had never known. His roaming hands continued to stoke the fire until Benvolio was all ablaze.

Before he knew it, Romeo was sliding roughly into him and he'd already missed the chance to memorize what he was determined to enjoy as a once-in-a-lifetime encounter.

"Wait!" he gasped.

Dutifully, Romeo froze. He balanced his weight on one hand and ran his fingers through the hair trailing across Benvolio's forehead. He was kind.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I thought you must be used to... I mean..."

"Shhh," Benvolio whispered.

Romeo, bless his soul, shut up and waited, though he continued to play with Benvolio's hair as if fascinated.

Taking a deep breath, Benvolio focused on the feel of Romeo atop and inside of him. He noted the air beating against his face, the fingers still moving in his hair, and the rise and fall of controlled breaths against his body.

Then, he opened his eyes...and drowned. Romeo had the most entrancing eyes. The moment he fell into them, he lost track of events again.

When he caught up, he was groaning and arching, Romeo heaving over him, face buried in his hair. His arm ached furiously and his legs were weak with exhaustion, but otherwise, he felt incredible.

This was what it was like to be with someone you loved. Even if that love was one-sided, it was a wonderful feeling just for that one, beautiful moment.

"I love you," he found himself croaking when Romeo slowed and shifted, holding him more firmly. "Whatever else... I love you." He wished that, just this once, Romeo would lie to him and parrot the words back.

Romeo did nothing of the sort. He kissed Benvolio tenderly, then braced himself and began to thrust with more urgency, washing the hurt off in a rising flood of pleasure that swept Benvolio away.

*

There was a purity to the dead of night, when humans slumbered and only the nocturnal creatures moved or made a sound. That was the night in which Juliet belonged.

Tybalt was of a rougher, deadlier part of the night. He thrived in the deeper, smokier shadows but was less at home under the moonlight. This night...was his. The new moon hung invisible overhead, shedding no light by which men might find their way.

On this night, deadly and unknown, Tybalt lurked in a part of Verona he would normally avoid. Near the church favored by the Montagues lay mortal Verona's heart. There, the humans went to pray to their god, to bind their futures, and to pass on into whatever afterlife mortals might find awaiting them.

Tybalt generally let them be, allowing their illusion of safe territory where they were strong, but on this night... On this night, he prowled. Soon, on the night of the full moon, Juliet would be crowned a Capulet as he once was, hundreds of years past. The pure girl she was would become an immortal who would face an eternity of watching life pass her by, as he had done for hundreds of years past. Her purity would fade, decade by decade, until she was as dark and twisted as he now was, hundreds of years on.

For some years now, Juliet had instilled a tame quiet in Tybalt. Perhaps that was why he had come to tolerate the wild child of the Montague house in matters of both lust and war. However, he now found himself itching to remind the humans of the beast that he was—that which Juliet was to become.

In truth, though he loved her and relished her company across eternity, Tybalt felt saddened and frustrated by that fate. Juliet...was better than him. She deserved better.

Yet the Capulet House was all she had ever known. She had been raised to it, and she was as ready to take her rightful place among the vampiric nobility as any human would ever be.

With such churning uncertainty, Tybalt prowled, letting the humans find him at their backs when they least expected it, feeding off those who were captivated by his slightest stare—all whose eyes met his. He let them learn the fear of him, and of their own yearning for him. He let them see the beast that ruled over them from the shadows.

Then, in the early hours before dawn, he found it—a face he had seen only once before. How the boy had grown... He was even more entrancing now than Tybalt had once imagined. If not for the troubled shadows in his eyes, he would appear as pure as Juliet, but of the sun as she was of the moon.

Tybalt was struck with the wish to see him laugh, but as he hurried toward the church, he seemed unlikely to do so. What could bring him here, at such an hour, on such a dangerous night of darkness and daring?

Tybalt entered the supposedly hallowed ground of the church as easily as any human. There was no trace of godly protection there to speak of, only a conversely gloomy aesthetic that suited Tybalt nicely.

It was not curiosity or sentimentality that spurred Tybalt to slip silently along behind the young man down the barely candle-lit rows of pews. It was possession. Once upon a time, he had held this boy in thrall with half a mind to make of him a servant, or perhaps, in time, even one of the comparatively short-lived vampiric consorts who would none-the-less outlive any natural human lifespan. However, he had been denied. The boy had never come to him. Now here stood that boy, a man grown, already carrying in him the taint of too much life lived.

He bent to prayer before the altar as Tybalt watched, undiscovered. Thinking himself alone, he prayed aloud. Or, rather, he spoke of his fears and regrets for some whelp of a man he had seduced despite his own indifference toward love and romance. A friend, he said. A mentor and a rival. A loved one...but not one beloved. He roiled with guilt and shame for the weakness of his flesh. However, it was the fear he spoke of that most captured Tybalt's interest.

The man feared for his lover, for that lover's lover—Mercutio!—and for his own life...for the Capulets would show no mercy when the Montague brood tried to free the captive Juliet from their evil clutches. They seemed to hold some illusion that the human existence was preferable to the vampiric and that Juliet—and Verona—would be better off for their meddling.

Thus forewarned, Tybalt strangled his half-formed ambition to play with this Montague mouse and stalked away, his presence never to be known. The Montagues would come for Juliet...but they would find a Capulet, fully initiated and hungry for a feast.


	2. Night and Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pleasantly surprised by the reception of this fic! I hope you continue to enjoy it as the story unfolds.

Masked though they were, Romeo found himself unexpectedly mesmerized by the sight of Benvolio in Capulet colors. The deep crimson and stoic black were a complement to honeyed curls and walnut skin. His resolve to protect his dearest friend from what Capulet retaliation may follow was only strengthened.

For a time, however, such foreboding thoughts could be set aside in appreciation of the glamour and grandeur of the Capulet estate. Mere humans rarely set foot in this veritable palace of ancient wealth, let alone the despised Montagues. Romeo had never imagined it could be so beautiful, and so tasteful. 

He leaned in to whisper his appreciation to Benvolio, but Mercutio whisked his lover away by the hand. Thus reminded of how matters sat, Romeo followed the pair only with his eyes, keeping his distance for the time being. Let them enjoy this party together for a while. He owed them both that. However, he also owed them his protection, and so Romeo remained at the fringes of the social frenzy, eyes on his friend and cousin at all times, though he also tried to identify the Capulet girl whose turning the Montagues had come to stop. 

Giving in to thirst, Romeo took a cup of wine, sipping lightly at it. As he did so, he wondered if the vampires even had any use for such a beverage. At his most fanciful, he imagined that some of the goblets raised to lips brimmed not with wine, but with thick, metallic blood. He could practically taste it, almost smell it in the air about him...

That very air was alive with a stormy temper, and chills suddenly crawled down Romeo's spine, spreading out into his bones, followed by a wave of heat. Belatedly, he understood that his eyes had met those of the most dangerous creature that walked this Earth. He was frozen to the spot, helpless as Tybalt drew near in his cat-like sureity. Hazily, Romeo remembered feeling this way once before, a long time ago.

Approaching with a confident swagger, Tybalt circled around behind the immobilized Romeo and spoke softly into his ear. 

"You don't fool me," he said.

Romeo knew he should feel fear, but it was hard to feel much of anything through the haze that slowed and stunted his mind.

"Did you think a mask and the colors of my house would mask the stench of humanity?" Tybalt chuckled, a dark and dangerous sound that almost broke the blanket of indifference that had settled upon Romeo's mind. 

For all that he was emotionally hobbled, Romeo's physical senses were in no way impeded, and he could feel Tybalt all over. The lips at his ear, the subtle fingers on his hip, the strong, muscular thigh pressed up behind his own... Even dormant, the bulge that rested between one powerful thigh and the next was as tangible as it was visible, on display behind soft leather as were the crown jewels behind a glass case.

Romeo's body could not lie, responding to the collective sensations with heat and energy. His hand fell to his side, hanging against both his own thigh and Tybalt's. Humming with soft laughter, Tybalt shifted so that his package brushed the hanging limb. As if of its own volition, Romeo's hand moved against it in a subtle caress.

"Precious, you mortals," Tybalt hissed. "Take away the smokescreen of emotions and logic and your physical desires tell all. This celebration may have been opened up to your kind, but if you think to woo my cousin Juliet with costumes and flattery to marry your way into this dynasty, you'll find yourself sorely disappointed." Cupping Romeo's hand, Tybalt thrust his hips, ever so slightly, rocking his human plaything. He then passed a hand in front of Romeo's blankly staring eyes. "Do run along home now, before I start to feel peckish."

With Tybalt's departure, air, life, thought, and vibrancy returned to Romeo's body and mind. He gasped for breath as though he hadn't breathed at all since encountering Tybalt—perhaps he had even been holding his breath since their first meeting during Romeo's childhood.

All at once, a flood of painful emotions tore through the stunned human, leaving him feeling weak and shaken. Emotions he hadn't even understood he was missing were, at once, a part of him again. Jealousy and enmity that his dear friend had claimed the one who should have been his, intense longing and devotion for the man who had remained loyal and steadfast all this time, horror at all Tybalt had stripped from him for so long, but above all... Fury. How much had he missed or denied because of that which had been lacking in him?

He had no time to process it all. For all that Tybalt hadn't seemed to recognize him in particular after all, he wasn't safe there. None of them were. Mercutio was about to do something insane and needed him. Benvolio... Benvolio needed him, and for the first time since he could remember, Romeo needed the comfort, affection, and acceptance he knew he would find in Benvolio. 

Washing away the taste of iron on his tongue with sweet wine, he swept the floor with his eyes, searching for a hint of his companions. It was impossible to spot them in this sea of masks and the universal color scheme. Apparently the majority of guests had thought to ingratiate themselves or attempt to blend with their betters by donning the Capulet colors for the occasion.

Shaking off a tendril of dread, Romeo drained his cup and then set off in search of the reckless Mercutio before any irreversible damage could be done. In his haste, he was moving with a tad too much momentum, and walked right into a frilly, pink wall. The impact dazed him. Judging by the slight stature of the girl with whom he collided, she should be on the floor, not standing firm before him. Romeo despairingly realized he had run into another Capulet vampire. The damage was done.

"Please, forgive me," he gushed, together with a deep, apologetic bow, thinking only to ward her off with polite niceties and hurry along. However, the motion caused him a surprising jolt of pain. He stifled it. "I should have been more careful."

"Well," said the Capulet, "I can hardly fault your manners. Are you hurt? I'm afraid I don't have a good handle on my own strength. Please, come away from this throng and let me get a look at that shoulder."

Truth be told, Romeo's shoulder did ache. He had most likely wrenched his arm. However...

"Don't mind me, lady. I wouldn't dare take up any more of your time," he hedged. 

"Nonsense. I insist," said the girl, who was clearly a fearsome monster in an innocent's clothing, leaving Romeo with no choice.

She led him out onto a small balcony. It was almost peaceful under the moonlight, with the hubbub of the party less immediate beyond closed, wooden doors. With a sigh, the girl removed her mask. She was pretty, and appeared rather young. For all Romeo knew, she could be centuries old, yet there was an innocence about her, a purity. It made Romeo wonder if she wasn't so much older than she seemed, after all.

"I saw you chatting with my cousin, Tybalt," she commented. "I do hope he wasn't too rude."

"Chatting" wasn't how Romeo would put it, but he didn't have the time to mince words. "My lady, I would not like to be rude myself, but I must go in search of my friends. I need to find them before they... Before they offend the wrong people."

"Oh, of course. I suppose that was why you were in such a rush. Very well. Let me have a look at your shoulder, then."

Unabashedly, the girl stepped in and took Romeo's shoulder in her dainty but strong hands. She felt out the injury, fumbling with bunches of fabric that made it difficult to locate any swelling.

"What's your name?" she asked, brushing at the edges of Romeo's mask, which caught in her hair when he jolted in surprise at the question. If he answered honestly, would she know him for a Montague? It was likely. Yet, what harm could it do for this girl to know who he was? She seemed kind and gentle, not the type to look down on mere humans.

"Romeo," he told her, neglecting to name his house.

"Oh." Her hands paused and she looked up. "Not Romeo, of House Montague."

In answer, Romeo pulled off his mask so she could see his prominent features. The girl gasped.

"And you are?" Romeo asked, letting a little hint of flirty suggestion into his tone. He was already courting danger in revealing his identity. It couldn't hurt to invite danger for a leisurely stroll in the moonlight.

Too late, he felt the fog unfurling as she stared into his eyes. It was that same strange sensation Tybalt had inflicted on him, although it seemed a more gradual process, not so decisive. It was almost as though the binding were instinctual, uncontrolled...

"Juliet," the girl whispered. "Juliet Capulet."

Impossible, argued Romeo's gradually numbing mind. Juliet Capulet was the human they had come to save, not yet a vampire. Yet, the last dregs of coherency Romeo could muster provided the answer: The Capulets knew they were coming. Juliet had been turned early. Now, she was wandering about the party in masked disguise, unaccustomed to her new, vampiric strength and not yet in control of her sway over the human mind. Romeo and his Montague brethren had tiptoed right into a trap. 

As if it would help him retain some sense of self, Romeo clung fiercely to the strong emotion he had always wished he could feel. He held fast to his love of Benvolio until it slipped through the lining of his heart like sand through a sieve.

*

On the one hand, Romeo was the man Mercutio's beloved had been obsessed with ever since either of them could remember. On the other hand, Romeo was the adored role model, admired for his strength and wisdom. 

Upon spotting his friend beset by the dangerous Tybalt, Mercutio did not hesitate, not for more than a moment. However, he knew that Benvolio's fear of Tybalt would make him a liability in this. There was no need to infect him with worry.

"See that gold-limned fireplace over there? I'll meet you there as soon as I've answered the call of nature. Remember, we're in the viper's nest, so wait for me."

"I haven't seen Rome-"

"He's still hugging the walls, watching over us like a chaperone. It's better that way. Pairs are subtle. Groups of three or more attract attention."

Reluctant though he was to leave Benvolio alone among these revelers, Mercutio circled around until he was in a position to catch Tybalt's eye.

Disgust, jealousy, and sheer desire warred within Mercutio as he saw what Tybalt was doing to Romeo right there in the open. Even as he filed the vision away for private appreciation, he recklessly lifted his mask the moment he caught Tybalt's eyes. If he had thought that revealing himself would put an immediate halt to Tybalt's little public seduction, he was very wrong. Tybalt simply gazed right into his eyes and all-but dry humped Romeo.

Glaring daggers, Mercutio chucked his chin toward an alcove where they might steal a moment of privacy. Tybalt, thankfully, left Romeo and trailed after him.

''Romeo is off limits," Mercutio growled, the moment they were sheltered between two stone archways.

"Oh he is, is he now?" Tybalt drawled. He wasn't intimidated by Mercutio's hard line in the slightest.

"Fuck me all you want, if it gets your rocks off, but don't you dare lay a hand on my household!" Mercutio hissed, baffled himself by the tears in his eyes.

For all that the issue of Benvolio stood between them, he did love Romeo as a brother, truly and deeply. The thought of that pure soul being corrupted by this monster... Mercutio was fit for bait. Whatever Tybalt might do to him, he would relish it, but sweet, peaceful Romeo...

"Ah, but we do so love our adoptive cousins, don't we?"

The air failed to reach his lungs as Mercutio's windpipe was suddenly crushed, slowly and deliberately, in a brutal grip. He clawed at Tybalt's fist, his eyes bulging.

"You're an amusing pastime, little fishy," rolled the sound of thunder in Mercutio's ear. "But there are so very many fish in this great, big ocean. Take your cousin and leave before you ruin my cousin's big night, or you'll find out just how much less pleasant it would be to have my other sword rammed up your arse. The metal one, with the sharp edges and the pointy end."

Why not just drain his blood? That was what Mercutio idly wondered as spots formed in his vision.

He'd become so arrogant. He'd grown complacent, thinking that their convenient little arrangement gave him some kind of leverage, or platform. It gave him nothing; nothing but bruises, scrapes, bites, and self-loathing.

"We'll leave," he wheezed. "We'll go. Do what you want with the girl."

"I don't need your permission!" Tybalt gnashed, his hold tightening painfully before he let go all together.

Spluttering and coughing, Mercutio rubbed his sore neck.

"Take the Montague brat and go, before you and yours lose your lives. Don't say I never showed you any mercy." Tybalt almost walked away, but he paused. "Your little boyfriend stays until dawn so I know you won't return alone and push your luck. That's the deal."

"No!" Mercutio gasped. "Not Benvolio! Take me!"

"You?" Tybalt laughed. "Your presence is of no worth to me. He, on the other hand, is the leash you so obviously need. Now...go!"

Mercutio had never felt such overwhelming fear in his life. It infiltrated his limbs and set his feet running, and it hijacked his instincts. Find Romeo and leave. That was all he could do, now. There were worse threats than death in Tybalt's furious eyes and silent roar.

Even then, he might have fought the compulsion and grabbed Benvolio to flee with them, whatever Tybalt said, but when it came down to it, he had his hands full dragging Romeo away from some girl. He practically had to fight his friend all the way out the door and off the grounds. The second he paused to recover from the ordeal, Romeo took off, dashing along the perimeter of the property and then vanishing before Mercutio could even catch his breath.

Defeated and alone, Mercutio sank down onto the side of the street. There he remained all night long, to greet the dawn and whatever upheaval it might bring.

*

When a slew of waiters flooded the room bearing trays balancing crystal goblets of red wine, Benvolio started. He began to feel a sense of foreboding. Where was Mercutio, and where—for that matter—was Romeo? How long had Benvolio been waiting alone by the gaping maw of the massive hearth while his lover and cousin mingled and dined?

"It's beginning," breathed an excited voice at his ear. "See? That's Juliet, in the center of the room."

Benvolio's head swiveled toward the man addressing him from behind. The sensation of danger was sudden and complete. He found himself fumbling for a sword not on his person, and lamenting the manners that had resulted in his relinquishing the weapon for the duration of the party.

"My, how flustered you seem. Perhaps you heard rumor of the Montague spies who tried to ruin our little soiree by targeting my dear cousin over there. Fear not. They fled not so long ago. All it took was one...overwhelming...compulsion."

The next thing Benvolio knew, he was trailing after Tybalt. All around him, men and women were raising their glasses in a toast. He might have followed suit if it weren't so imperative that he stay close to Tybalt, weaving deftly through the revelers. 

As they entered a hallway leading deeper into the estate, a din arose, full of coughing, spluttering, and exclamations.

"Blood!"

"This isn't wine!"

"How can you drink that? It's awful! I, I mean..."

From those who protested at the contents of their glasses soon erupted another wave of outraged cries and shrieks. Benvolio was vaguely aware that people were dying back in the ballroom, and that it might have been him were it not for his need to follow wherever Tybalt might lead.

Eventually, they entered a dark room lit only by the candle Tybalt appropriated from a sconce outside. The vampire went almost ritualistically about the room, lighting candles around the walls. Finally, he parted the curtains, and the night became awash with moonlight. The large window looked out onto an orchard.

"My private study," explained Tybalt. "I like to watch the workers toiling away, tending the trees and picking the fruit as if their dreary little lives have meaning."

"Why am I here?" Benvolio asked, confusion rife in his voice, though he made no move to leave. Nor did he retreat when Tybalt approached and gently lifted the mask from his features.

"Benvolio, no? It's a shame to hide that fine face of yours. Mercutio certainly has adequate taste, though I can hardly say the same of you." Tybalt ran his hands through the curls cascading down over pretty features. 

"Mer...cutio..."

"As to why you're here, would you have preferred to taste the blood of your fellow man and been marked for sacrifice at the first sign of revulsion?"

Still rooted to the spot, Benvolio felt a rising tide of panic, even as the abstract understanding blossomed into full comprehension and he began to regain his faculties. "Where is Mercutio? Where's Romeo? What have you done with them?"

A deep chuckle emanated from the creature before Benvolio, both terrifying and enchanting. "I told you. The Montague scum fled."

"Not...without..."

"Ah, but they did, I'm afraid. I insisted that Mercutio leave you behind. Don't be too upset with him. He was under my power, just as you are."

"Like...Romeo?"

"Hardly. I almost had that pretty little thing in my full thrall. No, the two of you are answering to my will, nothing more. Shall I demonstrate? Very well. Kiss me."

Without a second thought, Benvolio wove his hand into waves of dark hair, rising up on his toes even as he guided Tybalt's head down toward him. Their lips met and melded together, and though the compulsion ended there, Benvolio held the kiss longer than necessary. In his thoughts were Mercutio's affair with this fiend and Romeo's stolen feelings. By the time he finally let his heels back down to the floor, tears clung to his lashes. Surprised, he wiped them away.

"Is this why Mercutio has been straying?" he asked. "Have you done this to him before?"

Tybalt laughed with full-throated mirth. "Mercutio is a weak-willed slave to his own twisted desires; not mine, I assure you." 

All at once, Benvolio felt overwhelmed and defeated. Pressing the back of his hand to his mouth, he closed his eyes tight. He swallowed.

"Give him back," he muttered.

"As I said, Mercutio's urges are his own. I can't return what I don't—"

"Romeo!" Benvolio shouted, striking out to thump Tybalt's bared chest. "Give Romeo back! You still have him, I know you do! Let him go! Set him free! Let him live his life, and love, and feel...! Damn you! Give him back!"

Tybalt must have compelled him again, because Benvolio's weak onslaught quickly ended, leaving him only a despairing tirade of words with which to batter the source of his misery. He eventually fell silent, confused by the gentle way that Tybalt pried Benvolio's hands from crimson folds and held them against that distractingly bared chest. He seemed almost compassionate; almost human.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Tybalt murmured. "You're the one who unraveled my thrall all those years ago. I'd wondered... I'm not done with him yet. Such a pure, pretty little thing... He will be mine. As it happens, however, my priority this night was to ensure the success of Juliet's debut. When I discovered your precious Romeo, I played with him for a short while before Mercutio came along to spoil my fun, but then I released my hold, this time of my own will. If there was anything held back, any kernel of his soul not entirely his own, he has it now. Perhaps, before I come for him, he might return that bitterly deep love of yours. Ah, poor Mercutio. Shall I console him?"

Shock sent chills through Benvolio. His stomach seemed to cramp, as if to prevent hope from taking root in him.

"You released him? He's... He's free? I... I have to go! I have to find him! I have to—!"

"Not tonight, my pet. Tonight, you stay here with me as insurance. That was the deal. Aren't you grateful? I let your beloved go. I even let Mercutio leave. You Montague don't deserve half my benevolence, you know. In fact—"

"What light through yonder window breaks!"

Benvolio's blood ran cold. The voice that floated out of the darkness of the treeline was all too familiar.

"It is the East, and Juliet the sun!"

Juliet? The sun? What poetry was Romeo spouting? That wasn't like him at all. What was he even doing there?

"Juliet?" Tybalt hissed, gliding toward the window. Benvolio followed, soon making out a silhouette under a tree to the left. He rushed for the window, raising his fists to hit the glass and draw breath to shout out.

Tybalt grabbed his arm and he looked back in shock. The moment he did, the vampire's power broke heavily over him, sealing his voice and stilling his feet. Unable to move or cry out, he could only listen as the man he loved professed sudden and deep adoration for a woman he could only have met that very night... Now a vampire, surely! 

Tybalt had freed Romeo's heart to love, but the cruel joke was that Benvolio still didn't stand a chance. At first sight, Romeo had fallen for a fair lady. That said it all.

In all the years he had been tortured by want and devotion for a man so near and yet so distant, Benvolio had never given over to devastation. Now, he felt his heart cracking in his chest.

Raising a finger to his lips, Tybalt let his mental stranglehold melt to a lesser intensity so that Benvolio could face out the window and watch the impossibly romantic scene play out. The accolades of love escalated, growing ever more personal, and Benvolio felt each word as a blow upon his breast—a rain of invisible hammers striking an elegant sword and pounding heavily upon the anvil beneath it.

He couldn't stand it any longer. Stumbling as he whirled, he clutched at Tybalt's clothes, sinking to his knees.

"Please," he begged, his voice a rasp as he fought with everything in him to overcome Tybalt's hold on him. "I don't want to hear this!"

"Shhh. Put that mouth of yours to better use, now. Focus hard enough, and perhaps you'll even tune out the sound, altogether."

Tybalt began unlacing his leather breeches, guiding Benvolio by the chin to his crotch. He smiled cruelly as he drew out his mostly flaccid length.

"Pretend I'm him, if it helps."

*

There was something to be said for having your cock sucked by a man whose throat was clamped up with tears. In all his centuries, this was one thing Tybalt had never experienced before.

What a fascinating turn the night had taken. He was not at all pleased to discover that his prey had been poached, and even less so to surmise that Juliet had no idea of what she had done, by the sound of things. She had been turned hastily and had not yet undergone the usual induction that would teach her control and restraint. She had obviously taken Romeo completely under her thrall without even knowing it.

She would relinquish him, of course, but it would require instruction and mental fortitude. The problem was that she seemed as taken with the mortal as he was by her spell. Silly child. 

Humans were playthings, nothing more. They had their uses and their charms, but to fall in love...? Tybalt would need to put an end to this before snuffing Romeo out became the only viable option.

How unlike him... To hesitate even a moment over a mortal life.

As Benvolio sobbed around his manhood, throat constricting exquisitely, Tybalt closed his eyes, basking in the fine timbre of Romeo's voice. He had the depth and fluidity of the clarinet and the smooth musicality of the flute. Tybalt longed to hear him recite the most evocative of poetry... 

In his mind's eye, the vampire saw clearly the fine features of a man sheltered from the harsher climbs of life yet tempered by his own, intimate troubles. Romeo was not like any other human Tybalt could recall. He was not to be mistaken as worthy of immortal love, of course...but he would serve as sufficient amusement. One did get bored through the ages...

The exchange came to an end, and silence swelled. Hissing out his satisfaction, Tybalt pulled Benvolio up by the hair and gazed deep into sad, brown eyes. This one had his own merit as a plaything... A sad little puppy dog.

"I've changed my mind," Tybalt growled. "You belong to me now, and tomorrow, I will lay claim to Romeo, as well." Benvolio simply stared through those heartbroken brown eyes, still streaming with tears. "Enough." Tybalt elegantly wiped away the twin rivers, patting Benvolio's cheek in compliment for the effort he exerted to stop crying. Loyal, he was, and earnest. "Your beloved doesn't love Juliet, any more than you do."

"But you freed his heart—"

"And my darling cousin snapped it up, entirely by accident, I'm sure. She clearly has him in thrall, just as I once did. Tomorrow, you and I will retrieve him."

"Why?" Benvolio whispered? "Why are you so determined to have Romeo?"

Tybalt laughed, and for a short while, Benvolio believed that would be his only response, but then the vampire turned his deep, ancient eyes on Benvolio and grinned to reveal his impressive fangs. His fingers curled around Benvolio's throat.

"Because he's worth having," Tybalt hissed. "You humans are like weeds, springing up in droves no matter how fast you're culled, but every once in a while, one in thousands, or even millions—just one—might grow into something worth picking and keeping, for as long as it survives."

*

Benvolio could hardly refute that Romeo was one in a million. There was very little he could say to change Romeo's fate, and likely much he could say to doom himself. He considered offering himself up as a substitute, but that would only be an insult. For one thing, he was already caught. For another, he was no Romeo. Yet he couldn't just give up... He needed to learn more of Tybalt. Then, he might attempt to negotiate on Romeo's behalf. 

He had been foolish to allow Mercutio to risk all of their lives on this ill-fated mission, and to let Romeo anywhere near the Capulets at all. Now...he had no choice but to sacrifice himself to clean up the mess.

He was terrified of Tybalt. He always had been. The vampire was known to be callous and violent, disdaining of human life. His engagement in feuds and battles with Mercutio and other humans boiling over with dissatisfaction clearly meant nothing more to him than light amusement. He was like a cat, lazily bringing its paw down on the tail of a mouse fighting with everything it had to free itself, only to be caught again, and again, and again. The mouse knew it could never win, yet it braved the cat's humors, anyway, because otherwise it may as well just die in its hole.

Whatever his enmity toward Tybalt and the other vampires of the Capulet household, Benvolio was also born with eyes, a libido, and something Tybalt lacked—a pulse. Romeo was the only man Benvolio would ever truly love, yet he was perfectly capable of maintaining a physical and emotional relationship with Mercutio. This wasn't all that different. If he could prove himself willing enough to convince Tybalt to loosen his grip on the control that currently bound Benvolio to him, he might have a chance to save Romeo from a life in servitude to this creature. Romeo wasn't cut out for that. He was clever and willful, kind and gentle... He deserved to be free. Completely free. If he could come out of this with a heart able to love again, it would be worth Benvolio spending the rest of his days in Tybalt's clutches.

Mercutio might not understand, but he had no right to begrudge Benvolio's choice. After all, it was Mercutio who couldn't seem to stay away from the vampire he claimed to loathe. He, of all people, ought to be able to forgive Benvolio's traitorous desire for this domineering captor.

Smiling softly, Benvolio nodded subtly. "He is," he agreed, as if appreciation of Romeo were some sacred bond that they now shared. He felt Tybalt's hold on him relax by degrees, and slowly rose to his feet, stepping close and holding eye contact. As he had hoped, Tybalt's arms came around him in a possessive embrace. He may not be Romeo, but he could be as seductive, intentionally, as his love was unwittingly. Tybalt, it seemed, was not immune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far! I hope to be approaching the Tybalt/Romeo of it all in the next part or so. ^_^ Things will start to diverge further from the story we all know as the vampire setting lays down its roots.

**Author's Note:**

> If there's anyone still out there... I mean, I'm writing this 100% for my own etertainment, but on the off chance anyone actually reads it... Please leave a comment so I know I'm not alone in this odd little corner of geekdom. :p


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